


2 Bits

by Ewebie



Series: Tumblr Shorts [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Because intimacy isn't just sex, M/M, Men shaving eachother, ShSpesh short, Tension without release..., This is all wind up..., Victorian Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 09:11:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewebie/pseuds/Ewebie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> It was the quiet moments. The peace behind closed doors and drawn curtains. At the end of a case. At the end of a long day. At the end of their ropes, but away from society’s prying eyes. That was the foundation upon which the rumors were spread. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 Bits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [areichenbachfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areichenbachfall/gifts).



> This wasn't from a specific prompt. Written for nsfw smut Sunday (though there's no smut) and dedicated to Areichenbachfall: I feel like we haven't learned not to discuss these things with each other yet.

It was the quiet moments. The peace behind closed doors and drawn curtains. At the end of a case. At the end of a long day. At the end of their ropes, but away from society’s prying eyes. That was the foundation upon which the rumors were spread. When they entered Baker Street, tired and hungry. Disheveled from winds and rains and the soots of the alleys and side streets of London. When Holmes would shed his great coat and hat, and Watson would drop into his chair, massaging his thigh where the damp had caused a small spasm again. When Mrs. Hudson would procure a late supper and tea for them, but only out of fondness, not obligation, and leave them alone in the lamplight. And when the door is closed in her bustling wake and they dare to make eye contact, only to break down in childish giggles.

“Now, Watson,” Holmes chides. “Let us not be undignified.”

The small smile on Watson’s face. “Certainly not, Holmes. However, unsporting of you to say. Sure you have nearly three-days of stubble and look as though you’ve been dragged backwards through the coal mines.”

“It was forwards, and merely a lumbar yard.”

And they giggle again.

Then, with a sigh, Watson stands. He sheds his jacket and cuffs his sleeves, then bobs his head. “Come, Holmes.”

And he does. Only because he’s learned not to argue when these flights of fancy strike his partner. He follows Watson into the large lavatory, sits in the chair that is procured, shifts as a sheet is carefully settled around his neck and shoulders. The taps run hot as Watson washes his hands then cleans the grime from Holmes’ cheeks, muttering about decency and properly minding himself before leaving a warm towel on the aforementioned face. Holmes watches with glinting eyes as the brush is dampened, a lather built slowly and deftly in the bowl, a straight razor stropped against leather, and the strong smell of soap fills the small room.

“Legs like a giraffe, Holmes,” Watson mumbles, stepping across, straddling his thighs to properly see his face.

“That is patently false.”

Watson smiles. “I have seen them before. You look just like one.” His fingers slip the towel from Holmes’ face, reaching over his shoulder for the bowl and lathering over the well-known angles and curves of his jaw.

It’s Holmes’ turn to smirk, but it’s only a small flicker at the corner of his lips.

Watson raises a brow, tapping a finger on the underside of Holmes’ chin. “Chin up, now.”

It is a study in patience, in restraint, in practiced competence, and confidence as Watson perches, his back ramrod straight, and his hands perfectly steady, drawing the straight razor down the underside of Holmes’ jaw. The cold kiss of sharpened steel. The very sharp edge on which they lived. A surgeon’s deftness. The momentary pause as the blade is cleaned on the towel draped over Watson’s shoulder that allows Holmes to breathe.

“Once with the grain, once against.”

Holmes nods and the lather returns, still warm, thicker this time. And once again, Watson’s face changes, his features sharpening in complete concentration, perfect dexterity, the ease with a blade. It is intense and beautiful. It’s absurdly intimate. And after only a moment, Holmes has to close his eyes. Letting the smell, the whisper soft touch, the hushed breathing occupy his attention.

When Watson has finished, a warm cloth is pressed to the freshly exposed skin and used to wipe away the stray streaks of lather. He can hear the soft click as the razor is returned to its home and he sighs and opens his eyes again. Watson drags the pad of his thumb across the now smooth skin of Holmes’ chin, testing the closeness of the shave. The knuckle of his index finger along one prominent cheekbone. Just the very tip of his nose at the angle of his jaw. Holmes shivers.

“There now. Presentable again.”

Holmes swallows and nods as the warm weight is lifted from his lap. As the distance grows between them again. “Wouldn’t trust another soul with a razor at my throat.”

Watson rinses his hands and towels them dry with a small smile on his face and a hushed whisper, “Only for you, Sherlock.”

**Author's Note:**

> Works based on this one: [Podfic - read by bagofthumbs](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7974292)  
> (oh my god this is gorgeous)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] 2 Bits - Part of the Tumblr Shorts collection by Ewebie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7974292) by [bagofthumbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagofthumbs/pseuds/bagofthumbs)




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